Where I'm Going: NYC part 2

In exactly four days, I will be landing in New York City and free from my awful job.  The Writer's been doing some more exploring and finding lots of great places for us to go.  Have I said I'm excited yet? I told him last night that I'm so excited, I'm about to just start running in that direction.

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One of the first things on our agenda will be the Fourth of July fireworks over the Hudson River.  I've missed out on going to fireworks the past few years and I'm looking forward to what is sure to be a great show with a fantastic view.  Apparently the fireworks show in NYC is one of the largest shows in the nation.  The Writer's dorm is about a 15 minute walk from the river, so we'll be able to trot on down for a front row view of the extravaganza.

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During my last trip to Manhattan, which was a few years ago, my family and I visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  While I'm definitely considering going back to see the fashion collections (especially the McQueen exhibit!) and the Egyptian wing, I'm looking forward to going to The Guggenheim.  The building itself is a work of art!  My parents are not modern or contemporary art aficionados, so The Guggenheim was definitely not up their alley, but The Writer? It's on our to-do list!

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I was reading recently that nearly every New York blogger has talked about Sockerbit Sweet & Swedish candy shop.  Maybe it's becoming redundant, but seriously...a candy store! Who doesn't love a candy store? Their sweets look delicious and I'm a weakling when it comes to gummy, fruity treats.  I'm pretty sure I'll be epitomizing the "kid in a candy store" expression!

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The Writer took this photo of the High Line park this past week.  What was once an abandoned railway line in Manhattan's West Side has been converted into a park. I think it's pretty cool: you get a raised view of the city while walking among greenery.  I see a lot of time being spent in parks on this trip.  They're beautiful, inexpensive, and relaxing and I plan on relaxing a lot.

I started to gather some things together last night.  Packing is going to be a challenge, since I'm not checking any luggage.  I'm not going to pay $25 each way.  It will be cheaper to cram everything into a rolling carry-on and a large canvas tote/"purse" than to check bags.  Stay tuned...

Style and the Unemployed

Yesterday, I had the unique experience of attending a job fair.  I'm actively looking for my new job and/or career, so going to a place that held over 40 perspective employers seemed like a good idea. Apparently it seemed like a good idea to thousands of other people, as well. I kid you not...thousands.  The line to get in wrapped around the building.  The people at the front of the line had gotten there over two hours ahead of time.

Once inside, I had no choice but to wander through the masses.  It was an eye opening experience.  I know that Ohio is certainly not the fashion capital of the country, but this was a whole new level of awful.  Here are these countless human beings who are trying to improve their lives by getting a better job, who have shown up to meet potential future bosses wearing jeans, t-shirts, athletic shoes, one-shoulder jumpsuits, shorts, and loads of bling.  It was almost tragic.  Had they never been told to "dress for the job you want"?

I understand that times are tough and not everyone can go out an buy a new suit.  I can't.  However, if I were an employer looking to fill any type of professional position and an applicant showed up to an interview looking ready for yard work, I wouldn't be interested in hiring them.  If they showed up in an awful, yet clean and professional, outfit, we could talk.  It wouldn't be so much about the end product, but if I could see they put effort into looking the part, it would speak volumes for how they would fare as an employee.

Professional attire isn't about fashion. *gasp!* It can be. Perhaps it should be, but that is not necessarily my angle on this post.  Dressing professionally on a small to non-existant budget is about resourcefulness.  For me, being stylish, fashionable and resourceful go hand in hand.  So, maybe it is about fashion?  As a girl on a budget who wants to look her best, I have to put thought into every piece I purchase.  A casual tank top is suddenly office acceptable when tucked into a pencil skirt with a blazer or cardigan on top.

Don't have basic professional wardrobe items?  I'm guessing a lot of these people didn't.  How you make it to adulthood without them, I don't know, but there is still hope.  Get them.  Don't use not having them as an excuse.  Go to the Goodwill stores in the area until you find what you need.  Still too expensive? No problem.  Talk to your friends.  Does Friend A have a black skirt she's not using? Borrow it. Too big? Pin it. Does Friend B have a button down shirt or a blazer? Yes? Borrow it. No? Ask if their kid has one. Seriously.  Especially for average to small sized women, the boy's clothing racks are a great place to grab an unexpected bargain.  If the sleeves are too short, cuff them and rock the 3/4 sleeve look. Find some unobtrusive shoes and you've got an outfit fit for an interview.  It's resourceful.

Maybe, just maybe, resourcefulness can turn into style, and goodness knows, what the world needs now is style...or love, sweet love.

Rock Bottom

I have been dealing with such stress over the last few months.  One of my jobs, the one that provides the most significant income, has been a complicated place to work.  I've tried to stick it out because I need the income and because I hoped things would get better.  It has become glaringly obvious that things are only getting worse and I feel more and more disrespected every day.

Let me say that I have done my best here.  To most people, I don't appear to be doing much of anything, which is true at times and very frustrating to me.  I was hired in hopes that my experience in publicity would pull a drowning business out of the water, yet my hands were tied due to corporate budget issues.  The same budget issues, I fear, will result in my position eventually being filled by an undocumented worker that can be paid a wage below the federal minimum.

I lay awake at night, angry about this place.  I'm woken up by nightmares in which I am cornered and threatened by the people who imagine they have control of my building.  I hate the feeling of bitterness and resentment that I find is building up in my heart.  I don't want to feel like that.  My stomach churns with nausea nearly every time I'm spoken to, because nearly every person is rude and mean, and I've learned to constantly be on the defensive. There is an almost constant pain in my lower abdomen that begins shortly after I arrive at work and lasts the rest of the day.  I am literally sick over this job.

It is not unusual for me to cry at work these days.  I used to never be weepy, but now it is nearly impossible for me to make it through a week without tears.  I cried the whole way home yesterday and I kept crying.  I was at my wit's end.  There was no way I could continue holding on, to keep hoping that things would get better.  I have begun to fear for my safety.

Yesterday, I gave my notice.  I give up.  The people who would rather not pay me have won.

I'm hoping to move on to a brighter future.  I hope to find a career in which my skills and interests are utilized and where I don't spend my days essentially babysitting adults.  I need a job where I can look nice and not have to worry about being harassed.  I want to be proud of where I work and what I do and know that I am working towards accomplishing my goals.

I'm praying that the income from this job will be easily replaced.  I know I will find a way, even if I have to ask for help for a few weeks.  The paycheck, even after they were unceremoniously cut back, still covered bills and expenses, but even that is no longer incentive enough to stay.

Review: Arbonne Eyeliner

A few of my girlfriends have been bitten by the Arbonne bug.  One of them has been selling these vegan products for about two months now, and another, A, has just been signed up as a consultant.  I attended A's first Arbonne get-together, which was slightly similar to a Mary Kay party, this past week and, I admit, I'm intrigued by the products.

I won a contest for a free product from the presenter's goodie bag and chose a retractable stick of black eyeliner.  As a former Mary Kay consultant, I'm skeptical of multi-level marketing programs and the products they offer.  I was interested in Arbonne's claims to be all-natural, mineral oil-free, and environmentally responsible.  Those claims are all well and good, but if the products don't match up, I'm not interested.

I have a love/hate relationship with most eye makeup.  I think it's probably the oiliness of my skin that makes it slide right off, but I feel like I'm always wiping away raccoon eyes.  I can almost never pull off a dramatic eye look that includes liner on my bottom lashes, because it will usually be halfway down my face in a matter of minutes.

This is what my eye looked like after wearing Arbonne eyeliner in "Ebony" for a whole day. I applied it around 9 AM with Urban Decay's eye shadow primer over my upper lids to prevent the oil from my skin from pulling the pigments into my eyelid crease.  I was most interested in how it would hold up on my lower lash line. I applied a thin line, right at the base of my lashes.  I used mascara on my upper lashes only, so that I would have a better idea of where the raccoon eyes were coming from, if they popped up later.

I took this slightly creepy photo of my own eyeball after I'd gotten home from church and a shift at my retail job at the mall.  The shadow under my eye is just that, a shadow.  As far as I could tell, there was no smearing or smudging from my new eyeliner.

I've also been trying out some samples of Arbonne's face wash/toner combo product, oil-mattifying day lotion, and night cream that my consultant friends gave me.  I've notice that the products, which are formulated for combination/oily skin, have reduced my skin's natural sheen, which is a very good thing.  Overall, I am satisfied and pleased with my Arbonne experience thus far.

Can My Apartment Hug Me?

When The Roommate and I began our search for the apartment that we've recently moved into, we knew we wanted to downsize.  We were moving out of a three bedroom, three story condominium that we'd shared with another girl who moved to England two months before the end of our lease, and it was way too big.  Especially once our third roommate moved, so much of those three floors went unused.  They became neglected and shabby, eyesores that only got on my nerves.  The only thing about that condo that was too small was the kitchen.  You could barely open the fridge door without hitting the counters on the other side of the room.

Our new apartment is smaller by square footage.  It has two bedrooms, a large kitchen, and a good amount of living space.  I appreciated it's smallness, even though it is still large by apartment standards.  Lately, though, I've been craving an even smaller space.  I look around my current apartment and realize that, of the furnishings I own, I could outfit an entire apartment on my own, albeit a much smaller one.  Sometimes I'm glad to have a roommate, for example, I couldn't afford my own place and its nice having someone to split bills with.  Other times, I wish I didn't have to clean up after two people or that the other person sharing my house had interests more similar to my own.

I recently watched a movie about a woman with autism, Temple Grandin, who was unable to experience a hug from another person.  She noticed that cattle on her aunt's ranch were held in a type of clamp machine when they were being immunized and that this contraption had a calming effect on the cattle.  Temple created a device much like the one that calmed the cattle that she herself could fit in when she felt overwhelmed, as those with autism often do.  She later tested the machine's effects on other, non-autistic college students and found that, for a surprising number, the pressure of the machine was calming or comforting.

This idea got me thinking about my apartment and my desire for a smaller space.  With The Writer gone for the summer, the frequency of physical touch in my life has drastically decreased.  I hug, kiss, and cuddle so much less than I was used to when we saw each other on a regular basis.  This hasn't made me want other people to touch me, which I'm glad for and I'm sure he is, too.  Rather, it has made me want to live in a more compact space, almost so that coming home after work would be like getting a hug from my apartment, since I can't share a hug with my lover.  I don't need an improvised piece of farm equipment to make me feel secure and grounded, just walls that are a little closer together.